


Father and Son

by Misanagi



Category: Initial D
Genre: Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-27
Updated: 2004-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-12 16:33:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misanagi/pseuds/Misanagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bunta thinks as he waits for Takumi to get home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Father and Son

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hexadecimal00](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Hexadecimal00).



> Thanks to Anne for the beta.

Bunta sat in the middle of his living room, reading the paper. He had just finished an uninteresting story about some college kids managing to make a bus move using cooking oil instead of gasoline. Looking at the watch in the wall, he noticed that it was already midnight, and that there was no sign of Takumi yet. He shrugged and kept reading. It was still early, and he didn't expect Takumi to get back for another hour. Bunta didn't care; he wasn't the one who would have to get up at four to make the tofu delivery.

Bunta smiled softly. Takumi didn't seem to care about getting little sleep, and in fact, he had looked happier than he had in all his life. It wasn't a big change, not a noticeable one at least. Takumi still had that sleepy and distracted look, but every once in a while he would ask a simple question about the car, or about a driving technique, and his eyes would light up for a moment before turning indifferent again.

There had never been a doubt in Bunta's mind that Takumi was a good driver. Not as good as himself, not by a long shot, but still good enough to win against the kids who called themselves racers these days. Racing was good for the boy. If he tested his skills against other drivers he would work to get better. After all, that first race Bunta had tricked his son into had been what had made Takumi realize that he actually liked driving.

Of course Bunta had known that all along. Takumi was his son and there was no way a son of his wouldn't love driving and racing. That was why he had taught Takumi to drive at a young age, giving him the information he needed to become a better driver. It had been a slow process because heaven knew Takumi wasn't smart enough to get things when they were explained to him. The brat only learnt from experience. He drove by instinct but he lacked all the technical information. Bunta still hoped that one day Takumi would get interested enough in cars to ask about mechanics.

That was one of the things that made them different. When Bunta had gotten involved in the world of car racing, he had devoted all his attention and time to it. He had tackled Akina's corners even in his sleep, and he had taken care of his car, since it was his most precious possession. Takumi, on the other hand, only drove. Until recently he didn't even know what type of car he drove everyday. Bunta thought that it was because Takumi never paid attention to anything that didn't interest him enough, and Bunta had found that few things held his son's attention.

Bunta took a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. Yuuichi hadn't called that night, and Bunta was grateful for that. Yuuichi tended to be a little paranoid: having strange notions about Takumi losing the battle, or crashing. Bunta snorted. Takumi was far from being a great driver but there was really no one good enough to win against him. If Takumi had to battle against someone of Bunta's generation, then Yuuichi could have something to worry about. However, the kids today seemed to rely too much on the machine and too little on their skills. Of course, a good car was important, but it wasn't the only necessity. When driving downhill on a course like Akina, what mattered was the skill of the driver. Takumi at least was skillful enough, even if he ignored it.

After finishing his cigarette, Bunta stood up. He folded the newspaper and threw it in the trash can. He was done with it and he would get a new one in the morning. After checking that the tofu was ready for the delivery, he walked upstairs, pausing for a moment to look out the window. Mount Akina could be seen in the distance, and for a second Bunta was back behind the wheel of the eighty-six, tackling the corners, drifting, and winning. Always winning.

Bunta smiled and went to bed. Takumi would be home later, after he won his battle. There was no doubt in Bunta's mind about the outcome of the race. Takumi was his son, and Bunta didn't raise losers.


End file.
